


Everything is Teetering on the Edge of Everything

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Skype Sex, gamer boyfriends, headset sex, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles pinks, smiling down at spunk-covered tissues, “yeah, soon.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, gamer boyfriends AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Teetering on the Edge of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna add more, but I wrote the last line and it was just, perfect. That’s perfect.
> 
> Stiles, also, is basically a tumblr user. He’s basically us. Written in third person, mainly from Scott’s perspective.
> 
> I just wanna take a minute to thank all the lovely people on tumblr who supported me and cheered me on at one in the morning while I wrote this.
> 
> And, just a note: in the chat logs and in an email depicted in this fic, I left all the natural spelling errors--because people misspell things sometimes, and I imagine Stiles and Scott would. (But the rest of the fic should be all good.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy~

“You are such an  _asshole_!”

“Oh, please, baby you know I love it when you break out the petnames.”

“I fucking hate you!”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game!”

“You fucking fuck!”

Scott doubles over laughing, sliding off his bean bag and dropping his controller. Stiles makes a triumphant noise over the headset and kills Scott’s character as many times as possible before Scott exits the game. “Really, Stiles, for being ‘Mister AP Classes,’ your insults could use some work.”

“Whatever.” Stiles barks back. “I hate Halo.”

“You hate all games that aren’t  _Destroy All Humans!_  and  _Psychonauts_.”

Stiles makes a distressed noise. “You have no appreciation for amazing games.”

“Dude, I have them too. I love them. But that doesn’t mean all other games are shit.”

Stiles, if the noise he makes is any indication, disagrees. But as it always does, the argument passes. “Christmas is coming up.”

“Yeah.” Scott stands and stretches, keeping his headset resting firmly on his head. “Big plans?”

“Nah. My dad works all the time, so usually we have a quick dinner and I watch Christmas movies until I pass out in a food coma.”

Scott snickers. “My mom works a lot too, so, same.”

“Yeah? We could game.”

“Totally.” Scott stands and wanders to his kitchen, reaching for the cheetos. “Are.. Okay. So, hear me out.”

“Don’t I always?”

“We’ve been gaming together for like, a couple months.”

“Seven months, five days, thirteen hours.”

Scott grins in the reflection of his kitchen windows. “Yeah, exactly. So, are we gonna do gifts? Would that be weird? I. Yeah.”

The other end of the headset is silent for a while. “Dude,  _yes_. I would freaking _love_  to do gifts. Dude  _yes_.” Stiles draws out the ‘s’ sound, and Scott listens to his dance and cheer and inevitably trip over something and crash. “Price range, though, dude. Limits.”

“Uh, twenty five bucks?”

“Perfect.”

Scott grins, fiddling with a string on his jacket. “We should work on meeting up, too. I mean, it’s not like you’re that far away.”

Stiles hums in agreement. “Definitely. We gotta have an epic bro moment. We can get someone to film it and we’ll be internet famous.”

“I don’t get your obsession with the internet.”

“Tumblr is a wonderful place and one day you  _will_  understand.”

“Right.”

Stiles ‘hmph’s and mutters something vaguely threatening. Scott just laughs it off.

)

Scott agonizes over what to get Stiles—his online gamer best friend for, as mentioned, nearly eight months—for precisely two minutes before remembering the thing he was gonna get him anyways. Now he has a better reason than just “hey, I think you’re a cool dude and I may or may not have mixed up mushy feelings about you but yeah here.”

)

Christmas sneaks up on them fast, and it finds both boys curled up at their houses, alone aside from the headsets set firmly on each their heads.

“Okay.” Stiles sighs, and Scott listens to him get comfortable, the familiar creek of the couch.

“Yeah.” Scott rolls onto his stomach on his own bed, a pillow stuffed under his chin for support. “Ready? You first.”

Stiles whines. “But dude, no fair.”

“Just do it, I emailed you a link.”

Stiles heaves a very fake, very put upon sigh. Scott listens to the click, click, click of Stiles going to his email. “If this is a subscription to a porn site, I’m going to be simultaneously touched and offended.”

Scott laughs. “I would never. I have complete faith in the fact that you could get any man or woman you wanted—you simply choose not to.” Scott listens to Stiles beam, the way his headset shifts with the swell of the apple of his cheeks. “Dude just open the email.”

There’s another click. “Uh.. a link.”

“Yeah.”

“Is this like, a, ‘hey register here!’ thing?”

“Nah, dude. Okay. You’re never shutting up about freaking Double Fine, right?”

“Right.” Stiles’ voice hitches.

“And they have their new  _Amnesia Fortnight_  coming out, so I got you a backer account.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, you get like, a free copy of the game, access to their documentary stuff, forum access. The whole shebang.”

Stiles screeches, and Scott predicts it in time to yank off his headset. “Oh my god  _dude_  dude this is like the literal best present ever! I owe you my fucking _life_ , dude, holy  _shit_.”

Scott laughs. “No problem.”

“Dude  _yes_  problem my gift is so lame in comparison. No amount of Playstation Store points can ever pay you back.”

“They totally can. Just think of the gift as an apology for all the times I’ve kicked your ass at games, and will continue to do so.”

Stiles laughs, the sound of his hands slapping his knees coming across the chatter. “Oh my god, dude, I think I actually love you.”

Scott’s breath hitches, his face flushing deep pink, but Stiles keeps on chattering. Christmas comes and goes and they marvel at the light snow fall. At two in the morning, just as Stiles’ dad is getting home and Scott is falling asleep, they wish each other a very merry Christmas before signing off.

)

“So, dude, I was thinking—?” They’re conversation is interrupted, though, by Stiles’ dad.

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh, talking to Scott.”

“Scott.”

“The gamer guy I’ve been talking to for seven months, twelve days, forty three minutes?”

“Right.”

“The gamer guy who lives, also, in California?”

“The gamer guy who is also the reason why you’ve practically had a headset glued to your head for eight months?”

“Seven months, twelve da—!”

“Stiles.”

“Dad.”

“I think we need to talk.”

Stiles’ whimper is distressed and chills Scott in the worst way. There’s the click of a door shutting, and Stiles sighs. “Sorry dude. I’ll try and IM you later.”

“Kay.” Scott says, distant.

“Promise.” Stiles assures before ending the call and signing off.

)

Scott hears nothing for two days.

)

**Robin5eva:**   _dude_

**Robin5eva:** _dude_

**Robin5eva:** _dude I am so sorry my dad went super crazy Cop Dad on me and banned me from talking to you and he actually still thinks you’re some creepy stalker, even though I explained to him that we Skype and FaceBook and he just, he went way over board. He’s still not totally convinced but I nearly had a conniption when I tried to explain that I couldn’t just stop talking to you, and that you definielty_

**Robin5eva:** _sorry hit enter_

**Robin5eva:** _you definitely would’ve been freaking out YOU PROBABLY HAVE BEEN FREAKING OUT I’M SO SORRY jfccc_

**Robin5eve:** _so. Yeah. I’m so freaking sorry dude. Cop for a dad, it was a bad combination to start with. But I swear I never wanted to ditch you and I tried as many different ways to contact you but I reiterate: cop dad._

**Robin5eva:** _dude?_

**SuperScott:** _it’s not a big deal, i figured that might happen. i mean you actually told me that, when we first started gaming_

**Robin5eva:** _yeah but telling you it might happen and it actually happen are totally different_

**SuperScott:** _it’s fine_

**Robin5eva:** _it doesn’t sound fine_

**SuperScott:** _it’s not a big deal i just have a lot going on right now and it really stressed me out.  
_

**Robin5eva:** _there are not enough words to describe how sorry I am, dude_

**SuperScott:** _chill. it’s okay_

**Robin5eva:** _wanna skype? I miss your face :P_

**SuperScott:** _can’t, work._

**SuperScott:** _later tho, like, tonight?_

**Robin5eva:**   _k, dad’s on overnight shift so that works. Ttyl_

**SuperScott:** _c ya_

)

They do Skype, and it’s good and easy and fun and Scott jacks off so hard afterward his whole body aches.

It sinks in, as he’s wiping his stomach clean of spunk, that he’s so utterly _fucked_.

)

“So, dude.”

Scott whirls to face Stiles in the chat screen. “Yeah?”

“Got plans for new years?”

“Do I ever have plans?”

Stiles laughs and Scott is mesmerized—they don’t Skype all that often, preferring to game and scream at each other, but when they do, Scott maybe kind of sort of takes a lot of screen caps.

“I was just asking. I mean, there was that Alison girl for a while.”

Scott scoffs. “Her dad was crazy. Her mom, too. It didn’t work out.”

Stiles ah’s. “Well, at least you’ve had some experience. I’m gonna fall into college like a freaking baby deer. A virginal, innocent baby dear.”

Scott raises a brow. “Not a necessary mental image.”

“I beg to differ.” Stiles counters easily.

Scott laughs, leaning on his chin and just taking a moment to watch Stiles, take in the little details of his bedroom, his face, all moles and expressive pulls of lips and eyebrows.

“Anyways, if you don’t have plans for new years, I was figuring we could livestream the ball dropping together or something, y’know?”

Scott nods. “Sounds perfect.”

)

They do livestream it, Skype open and headsets in place as they sit on their couches and watch the countdown from Times Square. Scott catches Stiles singing, softly, along to Neon Trees as they perform, and Stiles catches Scott laughing at all the stupid commercials.

“Have you ever been kissed on new years?” Scott asks, curiosity burning.

“Nah, dude, remember, virginal deer.”

“Right.”

Scott side eyes the computer. “You?”

“There was only Alison, so, no.”

“At least people would wanna kiss you. Even with your stupidly perfectly uneven jaw, y’know?”

“Uh, no. It’s not like there’s a line.”

“You probably just can’t see it. You’re like the girl in those rom-coms who doesn’t even know she’s hot shit.”

“Dude I’m pretty sure that’s  _you_.”

“I’m not hot shit.”

“You so are.” Scott insists. “Like, seriously.”

Stiles just laughs. “Whatever dude.” He settles his laptop in his lap as the countdown starts. Eyes drawn from the television, he and Scott stare each other down while counting.

“ _ **Five.. four.. three.. two.. one!”**_

“Merry new years!” Stiles exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Here’s to a year full of gaming and maybe if I’m lucky, losing my virginity.”

Scott shakes his head. “You’re such a freak.”

)

“Stiles, dinner!”

Scott laughs. “See ya, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles sighs and ends the connection; Scott, as always, signs off too. It isn’t the same, he’s found, to game without Stiles. Instead, he stands and stretches just as his mom knocks on his bedroom door.

“Scott?”

“Yeah mom?” Scott pulls open the door to grin at his mom, always a mama’s boy.

“I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You’ve been pretty absorbed in those video games.”

Scott chews his lips as he follows his mom back to the kitchen. “More like absorbed in Stiles.”

“Your guy friend?”

Scott falls into a kitchen chair, dejected. “Yeah.”

Melissa McCall snickers into the food as she plates it. “Do we need to have a talk?”

Scott takes the bowl and kisses his mom on the cheek. “Can I just complain to you about my feelings?”

Melissa hums around a bite of lasagna. “Sure.’

)

Scott stares at the ‘incoming call’ pop up for a few before answering. “Hey.”

Stiles’ face contorts immediately to concerned. “You okay? Is this a bad time? I can call back, no big deal.”

“Nah, it’s just. Stuff. Feelings. They’re gross and annoying.”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods all sage-like, as though he’s a master of romance. “Wanna talk about it?”

Scott shrugs, sitting up and taking his laptop with him. “I don’t wanna be weird.”

“Dude we’re so past weird, we  _are_  weird.”

“That stopped making sense before it was out of your mouth.”

“Yep.” Stiles pops the ‘p’ sound, and Scott flushes under the collar. “But, seriously, talk.”

Scott sighs and nods. He can hear the clicks of Stiles browsing the internet as he usually does, but talks anyways. “There’s this guy I like. And I like all this stupid shit about him. I mean, I like the not stupid shit but I catch myself thinking about  _stupid_  stuff about him, all these little tiny details that have no significance whatsoever but it’s like they’re so vital, cuz I like him so much. It’s stupid.” Scott falls back onto his bed, laptop warming his stomach. “But I really like him. Like, so much, man. I want to find an apartment together and go to the same college and I have this whole thing planned out in my head, but I have no way to tell him. I don’t  _want_  to tell him because how much would that fuck things up, y’know? If he didn’t feel the same way? I’d be shit outta luck.”

Scott sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Stiles were you ever listening?”

Stiles’ voice, obscured because his hand is resting over his mouth, is awkward and stilted. “Uh, yeah. Dude. That sucks.” He coughs. “Oh, hey my dad’s calling for me, gotta go.”

The call ends.

Scott barely resists the urge to throw his laptop against the wall. Instead he closes it, sets it aside, and rolls onto his stomach to scream into his pillow.

)

Just like before, he doesn’t hear from Stiles for two days. But, instead of a frantic series of messages from him, Scott sends his own little novella to Stiles.

**SuperScott:** _okay look i know that it might be kind of overwhelming b/c yeah dude, your best friend likes you and that’s kind of crazy, but i don’t want this to be weird_

**SuperScott:** _that’s the literal last thing i want. more than anything i want us to keep being friends no matter what because you’re seriously just so fucking cool and i seriously don’t want to have to go through life without you, and that sounds so fucking ridiculous but it’s true. as a friend or a boyfriend or a whatever i just really don’t wanna lose you man_

**SuperScott:** _so yeah_

**SuperScott:** _hit me back_

**SuperScott:** _or w/e_

)

“Scott? Are you okay?”

It’s the first time his mom has been able to be home for dinner since the Skype Novel incident, and Scott is picking miserably at a bowl of soggy Cheerios when his mom swoops in to hug him.

“Oh honey.”

He hugs her back and sighs through his nose, resolutely  _not going to cry_.

)

He wakes up three days after the Skype Novel thing with a ridiculously long email from none other than  _voteforstilinski@gmail.com._

_Scott,_

_Dude._

_DUDE._

_First of all I am a massive dick. And I know this. I can only hope that it doesnt’ deter you from wanting to be whatevers because I really want to be whatevers, with you. You know?_

_I hung up on that Skype call because all I could think about was that it was some other guy. I’m already pretty sure these apst eight months, sixteen days, and at the moment I am writing this, thirty two seconds, have been a completely amazing hallucination._

_Anwyays._

_I hung up because I couldn’t handle the idea of losing you, either. I was so sure you were talking about some irl guy, because why on Earth would it be me??? You know?_

_But yeah. I reacted horribly. And I’m sorry._

_I’m a shitty friend but I promise, I didn’t want to ignore you. I was just really scared and now that I think about it, you probably were too. And I’m even more sorry._

_But, if you’re willing to give this a chance again, I really, really want to make this work. So. Hit me back, yeah?_

_-Stiles_

Scott hits ‘Call  **Robin5eava** ’ before he can even feel his fingers, all the blood rushing through his ears.

“I’m guessing you got my email.” Stiles’ voice sounds from offscreen. He sounds nervous and unsure.

Scott laughs, and it feels so good to laugh, to see Stiles’ freakishly long fingers resting on his keyboard, though he can’t see his face. “Doofus, get in the screen so I can see your stupid perfect face.”

Stiles shuffles into the frame and takes a seat, face pink. “’Kay.”

)

“Oh my god we’re really doing this. We’re really fucking doing this. Oh my god.”

Scott snorts, burying the sound in the pillow. He’s in loose fitting pajama pants, no shirt, with a hand resting on his stomach. “Yes. If you want to.”

“I want to. Do you want to?”

“I really want to.” Scott assures.

“Okay.” Stiles stammers, and Scott can just picture the pink on his face—isn’t that a thought..  _Skype Sex._

Next time, he tells himself. Next time.

“Scott, you there?”

“I’m here.” Scott tells him. “What’re you wearing?”

“Uh. Boxers. They’ve got hearts on them. And, uh, my dad’s old station shirt.”

“Take off the shirt.”

Stiles gulps noisily, and the headset rustles as he peels off the shirt. “Okay. Your turn.”

“Pajama pants.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Stiles’ shudder is audible. “Oh Jesus Mary and Joseph.”

Scott snickers, never more thankful that they both have nightshift working parents. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Just a bit.” Stiles chokes out. “I don’t—don’t wanna come too soon.”

Scott laughs as he peels down the waistband of his pants. “Yeah, yeah really. Pretty sure if I touched myself I’d shoot.”

“ _Jesus_ Scott, you absolute  _motherfucker_.”

“What about you? Are you hard?” Scott feels tongue-tied, suddenly, overwhelmed with want and just plain teenage hormones. “I want to hear you.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grunts; there’s more rustling, and the sound of lube squirting onto a hand. “M’gonna do it.” Stiles says, voice low and rough. Scott strains his ears to catch the moment Stiles’ hand is on his dick, and every slick sound after that. “Honestly,” Stiles’ voice starts off a little loudly—in what Scott has named his ‘nervous tone,’ the tone he uses when he  _needs_  to fill the silence. “I never expected that when we started gaming, ten months, eight days, fifteen minutes and eight seconds into us knowing each other we’d be doing this.”

“I didn’t exactly plan to fall in love with you either, dude. I’m not complaining.” Scott replies, hand curled around his own cock but not moving.

“Yeah?” The sounds stop, leaving nothing but Stiles’ own hard breathing.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too.” Stiles tells him, voice quiet.

Scott beams until his face hurts. “I look like a moron smiling at my ceiling.”

“Me too. Even worse cuz, you know. Wood.”

Scott curls up in laughter. “We suck at this, oh my god.”

Stiles snickers, but must move his hand because it trails off in a breathless gasp. “Have you—have you done this, thinking about me?” He asks sounding so unsure.

“A couple times. After I got over the whole ‘oh my god I like a guy’ thing. But yeah. I’ve thought about you.”

That, alone, seems to get Stiles going. “Yeah?”

“What about you?”

“Fucking  _constantly_. I think I’ve been in love with your longer than you’ve been in love with me. I swear to  _God_  it was so fucking sick how much I got off to you.”

Warmth spreads down Scott’s spine to his toes, and he starts to stroke himself slowly. “Yeah? What did you think about?”

“Everything, fucking everything. We’d sign off and all I could think about was you screaming and groaning and I swear to God  _fuck_  I may never shut up but you’re always making stupid fucking noises and  _Jesus Christ on a cracker I’m coming_.”

Scott, for certain, never expected his first sexual encounter, long distance as it may be, to end in orgasms  _and_  laughter.

)

“So you’re the infamous Scott McCall.”

“Uh. Yes sir.” Scott blinks at Stiles and Stiles’ dad over Skype.

“And you’re really the guy my son has been talking to for nearly a year? You’re not just some stand in for a perverted older man who plans to kidnap my son?”

“No?” Scott tilts his head, allowing wholeheartedly for Stile to take reign of the conversation.

“Dad, why would I even  _want_  to be dating a freaky older guy?”

“Maybe I didn’t give you enough attention when you were growing up. It’s a thing.”

“Oh my god dad  _no_.”

“Fine, fine,” but before Stiles can completely shove and lock his father out of his room, the sheriff pops back into the frame of the webcam. “Just remember. I have a shotgun. And we’re in the same state.”

“Never forget it, sir.” Scott meeps, waving as the sheriff keeps a careful eye on him until he’s out of the room.

“Sorry about that.”

Scott shrugs. “Makes sense, though. I mean, I’m eighteen already. He’s got a right to be worried.”

“What does your mom think of all this, anyways?” Stiles asks, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Scott can tell by the blue light reflecting on Stiles’ face that he’s browsing tumblr as they talk.

“She thinks it’s good we pulled out heads out of our asses and got our shit together.”

Stiles grins as his eyes read over post after post. “Yeah? I wanna meet her.”

“Definitely.” Scott agrees, pulling up his own sites—FaceBook, Kongregate, nothing so attention-holding as tumblr. “Sometime soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles grins, and makes an obnoxious kissy face at Scott until they’re both snickering.

)

“So, where were you thinking going to college?” Stiles asks one day as they’re viciously slaughtering zombies on  _Left4Dead 2_.

“Uh, I know I wanna get an associates from a community college, and then go for something in the veterinary field. I want to work with animals.”

“You work at a clinic right now, don’t you?”

“Mhmm. It’s a pretty great job. You should see some of the animals. If I could I would just live with a bunch of animals.”

“They have a name for those people and they’re called animal hoarders.” Stiles reminds him, a usual argument. “So, I’ll move out to your area, huh?”

Scott makes a face at his computer. “What?”

“Well, I mean. You’ve got your job, and whatever, and I don’t really have anything worth.. You know, making you move out this way for.”

Scott shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind. Either way, you coming down here, me going north to you, whatever.”

There’s silence.

“Stiles?”

“Seriously, man, how did I end up with you?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “Sap.”

“Whatever, says the guy who brooded and pined over me for ages.”

“You pined too.”

“Yeah, but. Whatever.”

“No whatever.”

“Yes whatever.”

“Whatever.”

“Exactly.”

)

“Scott, are you sure?”

“I’m positive, mom. Seriously, this is the best present ever.”

Melissa grins at her son. “Alright, alright. Just promise me you’ll be careful, keep me posted, all that.”

“Course.”

)

Scott figures that it may be just a bit out of line to fly to your online gamer boyfriend’s hometown without telling him, not go to see him immediately, and instead fumble your way to the police station while texting your mom that’s you’re okay.

He enters the state slowly, as though he’s going to be shot if he makes an sudden movements. (He may or may not have watched a lot of COPS on the flight over, okay?) The secretary looks up in confusion. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah, is the sheriff in?”

Her eyes narrow. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“Uh, I’m dating his son. And I wanted to formally introduce myself.” Scott stands a little straighter, holding himself a little higher in regard.

The secretary nods. “He mentioned his son’s boyfriend, right. He’s just past there, to your right.”

Scott nods and takes her direction; it’s hard to miss the office labeled very modestly, ‘Sheriff.’

He knocks, and waits for the quiet, “c’mon in,” before entering.

“Uh, sir.” Scott strides up to the desk and holds out his hand. “I’m Scott McCall.”

The sheriff looks appropriately surprised to see him. He stands, though, and shakes Scott’s hand. “Stiles didn’t tell me you were coming up for a visit.”

“He doesn’t know. It’s a surprise.” Scott grins to himself. “But, I figured I should come here so that you can see I’m really, y’know, me.”

The sheriff grins.”I appreciate that, kid. Why don’t I give you a ride to the house? I was gonna take a lunch break here soon anyways.”

Scott grins. “Thanks.”

)

“Hey kiddo, back for lunch real quick. I forgot some papers, so I’m just stopping by.”

“Kay dad.”

“You sound upset.” The sheriff motions Scott into the living room, just behind the couch where Stiles is currently sprawled out and forlornly staring at his television.

“Scott said his internet is down for a bit so we can only text and it’s, bleh.”

Sheriff ‘ah’s, barely knowing even what his son is talking about. “Left you a present, see you for dinner kiddo!”

“Kay dad.” Stiles answers again.

He waits until his dad is gone to sigh and roll himself off the couch; he adjusts his sweats before standing, stretching, and screaming because  _holy shit that is a person behind his couch_. He has the lamp in his hands before he realizes it’s Scott, who shouts at him to stop.

“Scott?”

“Hey. Surprise!” Scott holds his arms out, a dopy, puppy dog look in place. “Early present from my mom. One year is a pretty big deal, y’know.”

“Oh my god you’re in my living room.”

“Uh, yeah. Shouldn’t we be kissing? Hugging? Something?”

Stiles flushes a deep red. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Scott gives a little start. “Forward,” he remarks. “But I can work with that.”

“Oh my god  _no_.” Stiles laughs, his eyes lighting up. “God you’re an even bigger weirdo in real life.” He stumbles forward though, and tugs Scott into an embrace. “You’re really here.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles grins against him, looks up at him. “This is. Wow.”

Scott laughs and nods. “Very wow.” He takes in every detail of Stiles’ face up close. “We didn’t get anyone to film it, though.”

“Shame.” Stiles replies, absent minded. He leans forward—Scott never realized how tall Stiles is, they’re nose to nose—he leans forward and brushes a kiss over Scott’s lips, “This is pretty great, too. Not gonna lie.”

Scott grins into the kiss and returns the gentle pressure. “Definitely.”

)

As nice as a few hours spent leisurely making out and laughing at each other is, dinner is superbly awkward when Scott looks at sheriff over curly fries and nearly blurts out  _“I know what your son sounds like when he’s coming_.”

Stiles kicks him under the table and asks his dad how work was.

)

“I miss you.”

“Dude I just got home.” Scott drops his bag on the floor and drags the laptop closer to the edge of the desk. “I saw you less than two hours ago.”

“I know.” Stiles does his best pout. “I still miss you though. That was like, a super tease.”

Scott grins. “Yeah, it really was.” He turns his chair to sit in it, relaxes into the plush familiar feel. “You look even better in real life, though.”

Stiles pinks but sticks his tongue out. “Whatever, you totally drool when you sleep.”

Scott shrugs, all confidence. “You totally dig it.”

Stiles sighs, a doomed noise that’s still fond. “I totally do.”

)

Scott’s eyes must be stupidly wide. “Best Christmas ever.”

“Oh my god you are the worst boyfriend in existence. Take off your clothes, I want to see you too.”

It’s a little weird to have his room be illuminated by nothing but the glow of the computer screen—or, it would be less weird if it was the usual silvery-blue glow instead of a glow tinged with flashes of pink from Stiles  _completely fucking nude_  body being on the other side of the screen.

Scott hastens to comply, knocking over an empty bottle as he swings around trying to disentangle himself from his shirt and kick off his pants at the same time. “Sorry, sorry, I suck, sorry.” He finally falls naked—pants around his ankles—into his desk chair just in time to watch Stiles stroke his dick, his whole body bright blushing pink.

Scott knows his own complexion isn’t fairing any better, so he doesn’t comment.

“God, you’re.” Scott swallows his tongue. “Wow.”

Stiles shakes his head, but his hand speeds up. Scott’s own hand falls to his dick and he grips it.

“I’m serious.” Scott hunches forward, as though he can actually get closer to Stiles through the computer screen.

Stiles nods, talking a far gone notion; one hand grips the arm of his chair, the other speeds up on his dick, and Scott just watches the whole display with a breathless sort of fascination. He says things, sometimes, to Stiles, about Stiles, but mostly he watches the way.

It’s so riveting to watch because Stiles put is whole self into getting off—there’s no far away gaze, no fantasy being drawn up in his mind. Stiles’ eyes may be mostly closed but they still zip around and lock eyes with Scott, sending a surge of pleasure through them each.

“Stiles—I—!”

“Yeah.”

That sets Scott off; the noise, the guttural deep sound that’s drawn from Stiles’ chest. In all the porn he’s watched—and to be fair, Scott has watched _a lot—_ he seldom hears those noises, the good noises, noises that seem so genuine and thick Scott gives his own groan, starts of loud and trails off in a sigh as he comes on the edge of his desk.

Stiles’ breath hitches and he falls completely silent as he comes; Scott watches though. Stiles comes undone. His hips surge up as come spurts from the head of his cock, falling across his stomach and thighs; his mouth opens wide and slack and he pants, his fingers grip the armrest as though for dear life.

The moment passes and their breathing turns ridiculously parched and heavy.

“Wow.” Scott laughs and lets his head loll. “That was awesome.”

Stiles blinks sleepily. “Mhmm.” He reaches for tissues and cleans himself up. “It’d be better if you were here, though.”

“Well duh.” Scott grins at him, ignoring the mess in favor of staring at Stiles. “Soon, though.”

Stiles pinks, smiling down at spunk-covered tissues, “yeah, soon.”

)

“So, we’re agreed.” Scott looks at the scribbling of notes. “We’ll both go to the local community college until you figure out what you wanna do, and we’ll get a place together, and we’ll go from there.”

Stiles, over the webcam—they Skype more and more, now seventeen months, three days, fifteen hours into their relationship—looks at his own brochures and notes. “Yeah. It’s gonna be great. I’ll come down for spring break and we can start looking for places.”

Scott flushes, hot under the collar. “This is crazy.” But his voice has a definite pleased hitch to it. “This is huge.”

Stiles nods and his own eyes are blown wide and crazed. “I never thought that this would be how I was planning the end of my senior year. I always just figured it’d be me and my dad until I was finished with college and then, y’know, I’d maybe meet someone or get really famous for some groundbreaking development in whatever and that would be that.”

“Yeah.” He sits up and closes the notebook. “But this is good, too, right?”

“This is so much better than good, dude.” Stiles flicks his gaze up to looks at Scott and grins. “So better than good.”


End file.
